


Coffee Meeting

by Ellana17



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellana17/pseuds/Ellana17
Summary: “Look at you guys,” House said. “I take one sick day and suddenly the world stops turning.”Wilson snorted. “Except you’re not sick,” he pointed out. “You’ve been punched in the face so hard you fell and sprained your ankle.”





	Coffee Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I have a House M.D problem.
> 
> This is set during season 3.

“Do it,” Cameron said, pushing Chase toward the door.

“Why don’t you do it?” he countered, taking a step back.

Foreman rolled his eyes at them both and pushed his two bickering colleagues out of the way. “You guys are ridiculous,” he stated before knocking on House’s apartment door.

The three doctors took a step back in surprise at seeing Wilson open the door. It was early in the morning after all and the fellows had figured Wilson would have found a place of his own by now.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Wilson greeted as he finished tying his red tie. “I hope you have a case to distract him. He’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

“It’s only been a day,” Chase pointed out.

“How is he?” Cameron asked, concerned.

“Bored,” Wilson answered simply.

“Wilson!” House called.

“Come on in,” Wilson told them.

The three fellows stepped inside the apartment awkwardly, glancing at House who was sitting at the piano.

“You guys look like crap,” House greeted.

“You don’t look any better,” Chase said, pointing at House’s bruised cheek.

“We’ve been working all night,” Cameron informed him. “The patient is still in a coma and we have no idea what is wrong with her.”

“Look at you guys,” House said. “I take one sick day and suddenly the world stops turning.”

Wilson snorted. “Except you’re not sick,” he pointed out. “You’ve been punched in the face so hard you fell and sprained your ankle.”

“If you want to get all technical about it,” House grunted.

“I’m still hoping you’ll stop treating your patients like crap someday,” Wilson informed the man.

“Right,” Foreman snorted. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“The guy overreacted,” House argued.

“You accused him of sexually abusing his kid!” Cameron reminded him.

“Wait, I forgot, we live in a world where parents don’t abuse their kids, silly me,” House replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Wilson sighed in annoyance. “I have to go to work. Make yourself at home,” he told the three fellows. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

“They’re not staying for coffee!” House countered.

“They need your help and you clearly need the distraction.”

“I wouldn’t need it if you’d just stay home today.”

“And what would I tell Cuddy, huh?” Wilson asked. He glanced at Chase, Cameron and Foreman getting confortable on the couch, coffee in hands. “I have appointments today.”

“Your dying kids can wait.”

“They can’t actually,” Wilson countered, unfazed by House’s bluntness.

House groaned and glanced down at the keyboard. He started playing softly, clearly ignoring Wilson.

“Right,” Wilson cleared his throat and took a step toward the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” House asked as he kept playing.

“Your pills are on the table,” Wilson said. “You can get them yourself.”

“Actually I can’t, and I wasn’t talking about the pills.”

“Oh,” Wilson smiled. The man walked to the piano and kissed House softly on the lips. “See you tonight.”

“Don’t be late.”

Wilson waved at the three fellows on his way out and tried not to laugh at their stunned expressions.

House started humming along as he played, ignoring his visitors.

“How long has this been going on?” Foreman asked at last.

“I’ve been playing since I was a kid,” House answered flatly. He glanced at the three doctors and saw them glaring at him. “Oh, you’re talking about that thing with Wilson.”

“Yeah, that thing,” Foreman said, raising his eyebrow.

“Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” the man countered.

“I do,” Chase cut in.

“What about you?” House asked Cameron. “I could give you all the juicy details. That’d be more than enough to fuel your fantasies for a few months at least.”

“You’re a pig,” Cameron pointed out.

“And you’re only noticing that now?” House asked, feigning surprise. “So, about that case,” he added as he resumed playing. “Differential diagnosis, people.”

The three fellows spent the next few hours working on the case while House steered them toward the right answers as he played. He might have used the instrument for dramatic effect a couple times. He had since then moved on to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

House glanced at Cameron sleeping peacefully, her head resting against the back of the couch. Foreman was snoring softly. As for Chase, he might have been drooling a bit, holding the empty cup precariously in his hands as he slept.

 

**THE END**


End file.
